The Long Trip Home
by Titan5
Summary: One version of what might have happened on the trip home following The Defiant One.
1. Chapter 1

Just my idea of what might have happened immediately after _The Defiant One_ from Season One.

Special thanks to Espiritu for leading me to this site in the first place and for answering my many annoying questions about how to post a story. I am forever in your debt.

Since this is my first story, I'm sure it's riddled with problems and I apologize for that in advance. At some point, however, you just have to jump in and hope you can swim. This is me holding my nose and jumping in.

The Long Trip Home - Chapter One

Ford and Sheppard stood in the hot sun baking as they watched McKay trying to disable the wraith-constructed shield surrounding Jumper One. They had actually managed to find part of the wraith's wrist mechanism that was used to control the shield. Sheppard didn't think it was necessary to mention to McKay that the device had still been attached to a small section of arm when he found it. Although he had been sorely tempted to take the whole lot back to McKay, he decided in the end that he was just too tired and too sore to deal with the aftermath of such an act. He had carefully separated the device from what was left of its owner and taken it to McKay. McKay had muttered "Good boy", patted him on the head like the family dog, and immediately gone to work. He really hated it when people messed with his hair.

Sheppard watched McKay quietly and intently. He could feel sweat running across his tired, sore muscles. Every inch of him seemed to ache and his ribs, hip, and arm were really throbbing. None of that seemed important at the moment. McKay was way too quiet. He had to be exhausted and starving - yet he had not uttered one complaint. Something was definitely wrong.

Sheppard stepped forward and put his hand on McKay's shoulder. "You did everything you could. He was just too far gone when we got to him. It's not your fault."

McKay stopped working, but did not look at Sheppard. He couldn't. He was too ashamed. His one task had been to watch over Gaul while Sheppard battled the wraith for all their survival. He had failed miserably.

"Isn't it?" he whispered quietly. Sheppard recognized the heavy mantle of guilt that McKay wore. He had been there himself on several occations. He was fairly sure there was nothing he could say to lighten it.

McKay turned to look at Sheppard. He knew Sheppard just wanted to help, but he wasn't ready for that yet. "This is going to take a few minutes and you're not helping by breathing down my neck." he said in his best attempt at his normal demeanor. "I'm probably getting skin cancer as we speak and you are starting to get on my last nerve. If you'd like us to get home while you are still young enough to father children, I'd suggest you quit annoying me. Teyla?"

Teyla stepped out of the back of Jumper Two, which was parked in the sand next to Jumper One. "You require my assistance?"

"Yes," said McKay. "Could you possibly get Major Sheppard out of my hair? Maybe you could clean up his arm. It looks filthy. I wonder what kind of bacteria they have on this planet. You've probably got a thriving infection as we speak. Beckett will probably have to cut..."

"Okay, McKay!" interrupted Sheppard. He rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. "Sheesh! I'm leaving already. Just do what you can." He paused a moment before adding, "Thanks again." Their eyes met for only a second, but carried a conversation of understanding.

McKay paused and watched as Sheppard walked slowly and carefully through the back hatch of Jumper Two. Their little adventure hadn't gone so well. Two men dead. Two men hurting. At least they were alive. McKay went back to work.

Teyla immediately noticed that Major Sheppard was walking very gingerly, as if trying not to jar himself. Was he limping slightly? She would have to find more subtle ways than just asking to find out. His standard response, no matter what was wrong. was always "I'm fine" or "I'm good". Stubborn man.

Teyla got the first aid kit out and took charge. "Sit there," she ordered, pointing to a seat. Sheppard obeyed without comment, suprising her. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all. She unwrapped the hastily tied field bandage from his upper left arm.

"Major!" she exclaimed in suprise. There was an entrance and an exit wound. The area around both wound sites was covered in dried blood with a coating of sand. The two open wounds, still damp and oozing blood, were also coated in sand. "How did you get so much sand in here? It looks as though you have purposely packed it in sand." She looked at Sheppard in exasperation. He felt a little like a child being scolded by his mother.

"Well **mom**, I was a little unsteady on my feet after getting shot. I may have rolled down a sand dune while running away from the wraith."

She had not missed the "mom" comment. She may not understand all the odd things these people from earth said, but the meaning of this one was all too clear. She sighed heavily.

"So once you escaped the wraith, would it have harmed you to pour a little water across it?"

Sheppard pursed his lips, hesitating. There was no way out of this one. "I...guess...I didn't think of that." Now he really felt like a scolded child. He glanced hopefully at the back of the jumper. If only Ford or McKay would rescue him.

"Well," she said, turning back to the first aid kit, "the first thing is to clean the wound. Dr. McKay may be correct about the possibility of infection. Take your shirt off."

She caught him completely off guard. "Excuse me?"

Teyla just looked confused.

He rephrased the question. "What did you just say?"

She sighed yet again. This whole make-you-feel-like-a-kid thing was getting on his nerves. "I said take you shirt off, Major. I need to clean the wound and I can't do that with dirty, bloody shirt sleeves hanging in it"

"Wouldn't it be easier to just cut the sleeve away?" he protested.

"No," she said simply. Her tone said not to argue. Tired, hurting, and still suffering from "scolded kid" syndrome, Sheppard began trying to take off his shirt. She noticed he was in trouble almost immediately. He couldn't lift his arms high enough to pull his shirt over his head. She let him struggle a minute until he finally sat still, his muffled voice pleading from under the shirt.

"Okay, I'm stuck. A little help?" She grabbed the end of his tee shirt and pulled it off. Ford, who had been patrolling outside, poked his head in the back of the jumper.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

Sheppard merely grunted in pain, holding his right arm close to his side as he shot Ford a sideways glance. Teyla draped his sweat laden shirt over a seat to dry. She gasped slightly as she turned back to face him. Ford took a couple of steps up into the jumper.

"Wow, sir. What'd he do to you?"

Heavy bruising had already begun to show on his back, right side, and chest. The marks on his right side dipped down below the top of his pants, probably extending to his hip. That would explain the slight limp. Sheppard grimaced as he shifted positions. "He gave me a couple of flying lessons. No plane included."

Ford imagined he could almost see the outline of the wraith hand in the pattern of the purple/blue bruising on the major's chest. "Quit staring, Ford! You're giving me the creeps. It's just a bruise --- I'm fine."

There it was. Ford and Teyla exchanged a look as Ford backed out of the jumper. "Yes, sir," he said as he returned to guard duty. Teyla continued to look at him.

"What?" he finally said in exasperation. Teyla silently shook her head and began cleaning the wound in his arm.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The Long Trip Home - Chapter Two

Thirty minutes later a very hot, tired, and hungry McKay walked into the back of Jumper Two. "Done. We are good to go," he panted. And go was exactly what he wanted to do. He just wanted to be off this God-forsaken sand pit. McKay got a drink of water as Teyla finished wrapping Sheppard's ribcage. He could see the bruising around the edge of the wrapping. Sheppard seemed a little too pale and his eyes a little too bright.

"You okay?" asked McKay.

Sheppard paused a second and seemed to be trying to catch his breath. "I WAS. No one told me Teyla was taking lessons on torture techniques from Beckett."

"Dr. Beckett has simply been guiding me on the treatment of injuries in the field," replied Teyla matter of factly. "He felt our team needed special training in that area since we so often come back injured. Or at least certain team members do."

"Ha! Ha!" said Sheppard sarcastically. "I see you've managed to pick up his sense of humor, too. You guys are a laugh a minute. Just do me a favor. Don't quit your day job."

Teyla hesitated. "My day job?"

Sheppard dropped his head down until his chin hit his chest and sighed deeply. "Never mind."

Ford walked in through the open back of the jumper. "How's the major?" No one missed the fact that he directed the question to Teyla and not to Sheppard.

"Hello!" snapped Sheppard. "I'm sitting right here."

Teyla turned to answer Ford. "I cleaned the wound as best I can, but I'm afraid some of the dirt may have worked itself down into the injury. Dr. Beckett will probably need to give it a more rigorous cleaning when we return to Atlantis."

Ford smiled at Sheppard. "Oh, that sounds like fun." Sheppard looked miserable.

"The major has also suffered several broken ribs. I feel we should get him back to Atlantis as soon as possible so that Dr. Beckett may examine him more thoroughly." Ford could see her smile, but Sheppard could not.

Sheppard smiled weakly as he tried to put his shirt back on. "Laugh it up, guys. Laugh it up." They would have laughed more, but they were starting to feel sorry for him. As Teyla gave him a hand with his shirt, he really did look miserable.

Both teams sat scattered around Jumper Two, eating from the supplies brought by the rescue team. McKay had declared himself famished about the time they finished teasing Major Sheppard. Sheppard realized that his stomach was also making gurgling noises, protesting the recent lack of food. When the two men put their heads together, they realized that (with the exception of a power bar or two) neither had eaten in over thirty hours. Sheppard didn't even have any power bars left. He had fed all of his but a couple of bites to the glowing bugs.

Ford and Teyla noticed that each man drank heavily after their meal. "You guys worked up a real thirst," commented Ford.

"Funny how a desert can do that to you," retorted McKay wryly. Sheppard just kept drinking. He was almost out of breath when he finally quit. He was still thirsty, but his stomach was uncomfortably full. It seemed to slosh when he moved. Suddenly he burped loudly, suprising both himself and his team mates.

"Oh," he gasped, putting his hand to his chest. "Sorry about that," he said, somewhat embarrassed.

Everyone looked around the jumper, trying really hard not to laugh. About the time they got a handle on it, Sheppard burped again. He watched as their faces contorted in the agony of trying to maintain a straight face. Ford lost it first, with the rest joining in barely a second later. Sheppard smiled and began to laugh as well, clutching his arm tightly to his ribs.

"Quit guys," he sputtered. "It hurts!'

But they couldn't stop. At least not yet.

When the laughter finally died down, McKay looked at Sheppard. "Feel better?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," replied Sheppard lightly.

"Apparently Manners 101 isn't required coursework in flyboy school, although I would think you would have picked up the basics just by living in somewhat populated areas,"

"Not much population in Antarctica. I'm tired. Let's blow this popsicle stand." He looked out the back of the jumper at the gathering darkness and shivered. He thought about the wraith and about the ice he had seen on the rocks earlier.. He really didn't want to spend the night here.

McKay followed Sheppard"s gaze out the open back hatch, mirroring his thoughts. "I'm driving."

Sheppard shook his head slowly. "I'll take the first leg."

McKay looked hurt. "You said I could drive if I fixed the ship," he whined.

Sheppard suddenly looked tired and worn to his fellow travelers. "You can drive the last half of the trip." He gave a small smile. "That way you can practice parking." McKay seemed to be thinking about it.

"Look," Sheppard began, with an honesty that startled them. "I'm still on the edges of an adrenalin rush, so I'm good to drive right now. But I'm really starting to hurt and I know from experience it'll be a lot worse later. I can't promise you I'll be able to drive in seven or eight hours, at least not safely. I also know you're tired. We haven't slept in..." He paused to count it up.

"Forty hours," they said simultaneously. Sheppard smiled briefly. "I'm assuming you don't want to drive the whole fifteen hours back."

McKay shrugged his shoulders in agreement. "Not really."

"Okay. I'll drive the first half while you sleep. Then we'll switch."

McKay nodded, noticing how tired and pale Sheppard was beginning to look. "Are you sure you're up to it? You don't look so good."

"I'm good. And thanks," he added sourly. "Don't worry, I'll be waking you up in seven and a half hours for your shift."

Ford had been listening to the exchange. He didn't really like the idea of either one of them driving, especially for fifteen hours. He didn't seem have a choice, however. As Sheppard and McKay moved around, preparing to go back to Jumper One, he couldn't help but notice the strained grimace of pain on his CO's face. As the two men walked down the ramp exiting the back of the jumper, he noticed the major's limp was somewhat more pronounced. The major was really starting to hurt.

"Teyla?" he said. She too had been watching the battered pair exit the jumper. "Why don't you ride with them? Just, ya know, keep an eye on them. Make sure they don't doze off at the wheel. Don't want any DWA's."

She looked at him in confusion. "DWA?"

"Yeah," he smiled. "Driving while asleep."


	3. Chapter 3

The Long Trip Home - Chapter 3

Sheppard felt better when the jumper was up and flying, leaving the desolate planet behind. He frowned. Two more good men dead. If he had just kept them together. They weren't used to field work - inexperienced scientists. He should have known to keep together. If he had, maybe they ...

"Major?" Teyla slid into the seat next to his.

"Is Rodney settled?" he asked.

"Yes." she nodded. "He is resting on the seats in the back."

"Good." Sheppard sighed. "Does he seem...okay to you?"

Teyla hesitated. "How do you mean?"

"Does he seem..." Sheppard's words drifted off, uncertain of how to phrase what he was asking. "...upset...you know...distant?"

Teyla glanced back at McKay, struggling to get comfortable on the row of seats in the back section of the jumper. "He does seem different. Quiet."

John shrugged and smiled weakly while sliding a sideways glance at Teyla. "Quiet. Yeah, I'd say that was very different for McKay."

"Indeed," agreed Teyla. "Major, should we not try to contact Atlantis now that we are away from the planet. Dr. Weir will be worried."

"That was actually next on my list of things to do. Elizabeth's probably stroking right now. That woman does know how to worry,. Although that little quality probably saved McKay and me from a rather unpleasant death at the hands of...oh crap! I forgot to name him!"

"What is...stroking?"

"It means, you know, freaking out...going crazy...worrying a lot."

"Oh," she replied. She would never understand why these people from earth had so many odd ways of saying things. It was almost like learning a new language.

"Jumper One to Atlantis," said Sheppard.

Elizabeth Weir almost ran to the control room from her office. Grodin nodded to her. "It's Jumper One...Major Sheppard."

She let out a deep breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The look of relief took Grodin off guard. "Jumper One, this is Atlantis. Good to hear your voice. Are you okay?"

Grodin smiled a little as he glanced back down at the controls. He wasn't sure if she was referring to John Sheppard or the team as a whole. She probably wasn't sure herself. Half the staff had bets in the pool on how long it would be before the two let their defenses down and got together. The chemistry seemed obvious to everyone but Sheppard and Weir. Personally, he thought they knew - deep down - but ignored it. Protocol. Some might not understand the top ranking military officer and the head of the expedition getting together. Conflict of interest or some such nonsense. Personally, he thought they made a cute couple.

"McKay and I are basically fine...a little tired and a little worse for wear. Ford arrived with the calvary just in time to save our collective butts, by the way. Nice move. Good instincts. You should be in the military."

It was so good to hear his voice. She closed her eyes a second as her heart beat wildly in her chest. She took a deep calming breath to try to steady herself. Her legs were feeling sort of rubbery, but she tried to sound light. "Not likely, Major. What about Abrams and Gaul?"

Sheppard didn't answer immediately. "They didn't make it," he finally replied sadly. Teyla noted again how tired and pale he looked. Pain passed across his features momentarily before he grit his teeth and regained his composure.

"Are you all right, Major?"

Weir heard the question and frowned. "John, are you injured?"

"You did that on purpose." Sheppard slid his eyes sideways at Teyla without turning his head. It was partly for dramatic effect and partly because the soreness in his muscles had crept up his shoulders and into his neck. He silently wondered if this was what whiplash felt like. His head also throbbed incessantly. He vaguely remembered the back of his head slamming into the ground the second time the wraith sent him for his flying lesson. He absent-mindedly rubbed his hand across the back of his head. Small goose egg. Crap! One more thing for Beckett to obsess over. If he ever did make it home, Beckett would lock him up in the infirmary and throw away the key.

"Major?" He realized he had let his mind wander. That wouldn't look good.

"I'm okay, Elizabeth," he said tiredly. "Same oh, same oh. Bumps...bruises...Maybe a few cracked ribs."

"Gunshot to the arm," yelled McKay from the back.

"I thought you were sleeping," Sheppard said crossly.

"Who's shot in the arm?" asked Weir.

"Major Kirk, who do you think?" replied the voice from the back of the jumper.

"McKay, if you don't clam up, I'm pulling over at the next heavenly body and you're walking," yelled Sheppard angrily. Did that man never shut up?

"Major, should you be piloting the jumper?" inquired Weir. He didn't miss the worry lining her question. If he hadn't been driving the jumper, he'd have gone to the back and punched McKay. Why did he have to make everything so complicated?

"Crap," Sheppard mumbled under his breath as he rubbed his forehead with his fingers, trying to massage out the pain he felt building.

"Excuse me?" asked Weir in an offended voice.

"Look," Sheppard began. "Here it is in a nutshell. McKay and I are exhausted. We haven't had any sleep in...I forgot how long, but a long time. There was a wraith on the planet. He killed Abrams and Gaul. Rodney got to sit and watch Gaul die while I went a couple of rounds with..." Oh yeah, no name. "...the wraith. He got hold of a gun and shot me in the arm. It's a through and through...no bone involvement. Nice and clean."

Teyla humphed when he said clean and Sheppard shot her a warning look.

Sheppard continued. "I may have cracked a couple of ribs in the wrestling match that followed, but Teyla's got me wrapped up like a Christmas turkey. I'm sore, but I'm good. McKay's going to sleep the first shift while I drive , then we'll switch. No one else here can pilot the jumper. It's the best plan we could come up with." He waited to see how much of a fuss she would put up.

Weir paused, thinking of the options. There weren't any. "Okay, it sounds like you've thought this out. Be safe. We'll be waiting." She tried not to let the worry project in her voice. John was coming home battered, yet again. If he was saying cracked ribs, it was probably more like broken ribs. He had a bad habit of understating his injuries. Waiting fifteen hours for medical treatment seemed like an awfully long time. She thought maybe she would give Carson a heads up on the situation.

"See you in fifteen hours, Atlantis. Jumper One out."


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for the encouragement so far. This is such a rush. I actually have most of the story written out, it just takes me a while to type it. I'll type and post as fast as I can. Hint: Shep's in real trouble this chapter.

The Long Trip Home - Chapter 4

Seven hours into the flight, Rodney McKay was snoring loudly. He had been snoring ever louder for several hours now. At first Sheppard found it highly annoying. Once he had Teyla poke the scientist in an effort to get him to stop. The resulting verbal barrage kept them from disturbing the man when the snoring resumed. It was just easier to listen to the snoring.

After a while, Sheppard began to take comfort in the sound. It meant that Rodney was getting some much needed sleep. It eventually gave him something to focus on beside the white hot pain now stabbing in his hip and side. It was a beast, growing and spreading inside him. Warm pain spilled over into his belly and made his stomach lurch. He swallowed hard against the acid taste that crept up into the back of his throat. His arm was throbbing and every muscle in his body seemed to ache. His eyelids seemed to have taken on the weight of the world and his head continued to throb relentlessly. It was getting increasingly hard to hold his eyes open. Seven hours of sitting had made him stiffen to the point he wasn't sure he could move.

He looked down. He hadn't realized he was gripping the controls so tightly. His knuckles were white and his fingers were going numb. He focused on the snoring. _I can do this_. He tried to take a deep breath to help him relax, but only succeeded in sending a wave of pain through his ribs. Nausea threatened to overcome him. He began to feel dizzy. He was going to pass out.

"Teyla?" he called softly. He wasn't sure if she heard him. She was currently in the back of the jumper and he hadn't been able to project his voice very far. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Major?" Her touch grounded him and helped him focus as the world spun and the fog began to move in.

"I think you better wake up McKay. Now."

Teyla had been quietly straightening up the chaos left in the jumper by the wraith's ransacking. It was more an attempt to ward off boredom than a desire for order. Her CO had spoken so softly, she had barely heard him. As she appeared by his side, she was taken aback. His condition had obviously grown much worse while she busied herself in the back. A thin sheen of sweat covered his face, which was ghostly pale. His breathing was heavy and irregular and sounded somewhat ragged. He hung onto the controls with what Aiden Ford would undoubtedly refer to as a death grip.

She didn't question his instructions or ask him how he felt. The pain he felt was evident in his expression. Teyla hurried back to Dr. McKay. At some point, he had traded in snoring for mumbling incoherently. He seemed to be dreaming.

"Dr. McKay," she said as she lightly touched his shoulder.

"Gaul, NO!" McKay sat bolt upright, almost smacking their heads together. He was panting heavily as his eyes darted around, trying to get his bearings.

"It's Teyla, Dr. McKay. We are safe in the jumper," she said in a soothing voice, placing her hand gently on his forearm. He focused on her voice and the touch of her hand, his breathing slowly coming back under his control.

"Hey," he said, trying to sound calm. "My turn to drive?"

"Dr. McKay, are you all right?"

"Fine. Never better. Weird dreams," he said, waving his hand. He paused a second, noticing Teyla's grim expression. His fake smile dissolved. "What's wrong?"

"I believe that Major Sheppard is injured more seriously than we first believed. He is asking that you take over the controls."

A shudder of fear briefly flittered through McKay. John Sheppard was _asking_ for someone else to fly his ship? What's worse was that he was actually asking _him _to fly the ship. Something was definitely wrong. McKay jumped to his feet and immediately began swaying. Teyla reached out to support him.

"Wow! Major head rush," he exclaimed as he put his hand to his head. He steadied quickly. "Okay, I'm good." He immediately cringed. He was hanging around Sheppard too much.

Teyla cocked her head at him. She had noticed. "Sorry! I guess our resident flyboy is staring to rub off on me." Teyla only smiled.

As they walked toward the cockpit, they both noticed Sheppard's head bent forward with his chin on his chest. "Crap!" exclaimed McKay. If Sheppard was sleeping at the controls, he really was in bad shape.

At Rodney's voice, Sheppard's head jerked up, causing him to yelp in pain. The ship lurched to one side as he inadvertently jerked on the controls. "McKay! Don't do that," he complained as he righted the ship. Teyla and McKay looked at each other in relief. McKay slid into the copilots seat and Teyla took up position behind Sheppard.

"Hate to wake you from your beauty sleep. Obviously you need it," Sheppard said slowly. He felt like his tongue was swollen and briefly wondered if his speech was slurred. He could barely see through the mounting red haze that clouded his vision. His insides screamed and the nausea kept rising up into his throat. He wished he had bypassed his last meal. Huh! Last meal. He didn't much like the sound of that.

"That's okay," answered McKay. "I'll catch up when we get back to Atlantis. Besides, I'm obviously WAY ahead of you."

"Funny," muttered Sheppard.

Sheppard's radio chirped. Apparently Ford had seen the ship's sideways lurch. "Major, are you okay? Please respond."

McKay tapped his radio link. "We're okay Ford. Just changing drivers."

"Can you stand?" asked McKay, watching the face of his friend closely.

"Not sure." Talking hurt, so he was keeping his replies short. "Getting stiff."

Rodney glanced at his watch. "Seven hours of sitting in one place can do that to you. Okay, here's the plan," he said as he leaned close to Sheppard. "I'll take the contols while you slip out of the seat. Teyla can help you to the back. Tell me when you're ready."

Sheppard leaned away from McKay slightly and made a face. "Jeez Rodney, not so close. I thought you were going to kiss me for a minute."

McKay jerked upright in his seat, rolled his eyes, and sighed heavily. "You are SUCH a pervert, Major. If you're not careful, YOU will be the one put out to walk home."

Teyla was at a loss for words. They kept threatening to make each other walk, and yet clearly it was impossible for anyone to walk back to Atlantis. They could be so-o-o-o-o infuriating.

Sheppard's head began to roll slightly to one side. He was losing consciousness. They had to move now.

"Major, are you ready?" McKay asked.

Sheppard's head came up and steadied once again. "I'm good."

McKay felt guilty when he almost laughed out loud. "Yeah, right." he replied sarcastically. He leaned over Sheppard and took hold of the controls. "Got it."

Sheppard let go of the contols and slid out of the seat toward his left and McKay slid into the seat from his right. As soon as he got to his feet, his legs began to buckle. Teyla, expecting this response, was already providing support. He staggered a step or two as waves of dizziness, pain, and nausea washed over him. The vomiting began about the same time his knees hit the floor and continued until long after his stomach was empty. His ribs felt as though white hot explosions were ripping him apart inside. He gasped for air, feeling like he was suffocating. He briefly wondered if it was possible to turn your stomach inside out. Wasn't there some animal that did that --- fed by throwing up their stomach onto their food? Starfish, maybe? He should have paid attention in Biology.

"Major Sheppard, can you walk?" His mind snapped back to the present. As he brought one hand up to wipe his mouth, he noticed it was shaking. That's pretty much how he felt all over.

"I think so," he said weakly. "Sorry." He wanted to say more, but couldn't. If he lived through this, McKay was going to kill him. The smell was already beginning to flow through the jumper and they had hours left to go. Yeah, he thought as he struggled to his feet. McKay was definitely going to kill him.

Teyla managed to get Sheppard on his feet and then helped him stagger to the back compartment. His head continued to swim and his stomach continued to churn. He just wanted to lay down.

McKay was swallowing and breathing shallowly through his mouth in an effort to supress his gag reflex. "Is he okay?" he said loudly, unable to see their progress behind him. He didn't dare turn around.

Teyla helped the major sit on the bench of seats and then lay back on his left side. The pressure on his injured arm was uncomfortable, but he knew he couldn't handle any pressure on his right side. He groaned in pain as the movement produced stabbing pain in his side and abdomen.

"I'm sorry, Major," she said gently, as she rolled up her jacket and placed it beneath his head. She remembered another time she had carried out that same attempt at making the major more comfortable. "Can I get you anything?"

"Water," he mumbled, eyes closed tightly against the mounting waves of pain.

Teyla got a canteen and gently lifted Major Sheppard's head. She slowly tipped the mouth of the canteen to his lips, aware that she shouldn't let him have very much. When she was sure he had gotten a few mouthfuls, she took it away. "That's enough for now."

He moaned softly, having never opened his eyes. She thought she heard him try to say thanks. "You're welcome," she said back to him.

Now that he was lying down and still, the dizziness was subsiding a little. The drink helped soothe his raw throat somewhat. He was so tired. He tried to open his eyes, but couldn't. His head, arm, hip, and side throbbed with a life all their own., the pain roared in his ears. He just wanted it to go away...just for a while...so he could rest. So tired. Slowly, surely, consciousness began to slip away. And he was glad.

McKay was impatiently waiting on Teyla to answer him about the major's condition. "Hello? Am I alone here?"

"No, Dr. McKay, you are not alone. Major Sheppard is now resting in the back."

"How is he?"

She looked at the ;ale form laying on the bench. A thin film of sweat lined his brow and yet she thought she saw him shiver. "Not well, I'm afraid. We better contact Atlantis."


	5. Chapter 5

The Long Trip Home - Chapter 5

Teyla began cleaning up the jumper floor while McKay contacted Atlantis. _Sheppard better make it through this so I can have the pleasure of killing him, _he thought to himself as he continued to try to breathe through his mouth. "Atlantis, this is Jumper One."

Weir answered almost immediately. McKay wondered if perhaps she was sitting on the radio. "Jumper One, this is Atlantis. What is your status?"

"Elizabeth, we may have a problem. We need to talk to Beckett."

Weir's heart seemed to make a violent jump to her throat and get stuck there. She knew even before she asked. "John?"

"Who else," replied McKay. "Apparently he was hurt a lot worse that he was letting on. Oh my, what a suprise!"

"We'll patch you through."

A minute later, Carson Beckett's voice came through the radio. "Rodney, I understand Major Sheppard is injured. Elizabeth has already filled me in on the information given her earlier. I need to know what's happened since then."

"Dizziness, nausea, vomiting, and he's in a lot of pain. He's either sleeping or unconscious, I'm not sure which."

"Teyla, could you check his pulse for me?"

Teyla had returned to the back of the jumper to kneel in the floor next to the major. She placed her fingers along the side of his neck and felt carefully. "It is very fast and rather weak, doctor and he is very pale. His face is sweaty, but he seems to be shivering."

Beckett frowned, worry etched in his expression. "Sounds like he's going into shock. He may have internal bleeding. Do you have a blanket?"

"Yes," she answered, digging one out of an overhead bin.

"Cover him up then. How's his breathing?"

She had already noted a slight rattle in his breathing as she covered him with the blanket. "He's breathing okay for now, but it's starting to sound...,.noisy."

Beckett frowned even deeper. He didn't much like the sound of that. "Okay, keep a close check on him. Let me know if there's any change, especially in his breathing. I'll probably check in with you every hour. What's your ETA?"

"Seven...maybe seven and a half hours," replied McKay.

Beckett sighed loudly in exasperation. "Can you not go any faster?" he asked. The pleading nature of his question scared McKay worse than anything he had yet encountered on this trip.

"I can try."

Dr. Weir had been listening to the exchange about Major Sheppard's worsening condition. The worry in Carson's voice shook her deep down. _Please, don't let him die_, she prayed silently. She hurriedly wiped her face to rid herself of the tears welling in her eyes before they spilled over onto her cheeks, giving her away. As she turned, she made eye contact with Peter Grodin. He knew. And his eyes sought to comfort her silently across the busy room. She smiled bravely and nodded.

Four hours later, John Sheppard felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest. It hurt so much to breathe. When he did draw a breath, it felt like he wasn't getting any oxygen. He wanted to breathe deeper and faster to make up the difference, but he couldn't.

With much effort, he managed to prize his eyes open. Not really open --- more like narrow slits he could peek through. The world was fuzzy and the sounds seemed garbled at first. Something was trying to cover his face. He tried to fight it, but that made his side hurt. He tried to say, "No," but it came out a gurgle. Strong hands, yet soft, pushed him down gently as he struggled. The voice began to clear up a little, where he could understand some of it.

"Major Sheppard...relax...help...oxygen..." What was it saying? A familiar face, but still fuzzy, floated above him. She was looking at him and talking, but he couldn't quite understand. He lessened his struggle. He thought maybe he trusted her. Hands on his face again! But now, somehow, breathing seemed easier. He accepted it gladly as he drifted away once more

Teyla sat on the floor next to the major and breathed a sigh of relief. She clicked on her radio. "I have the oxygen mask on him," she reported to Dr. Beckett He had struggled. She could tell he had no idea who she was or what she had been doing. He'd seemed almost frightened at first.

"Is he conscious?"

"No. He mumbled something, but I was unable to understand what he said. He seemed frightened and confused. He is resting now, though. and his breathing seems easier."

"How's his temperature?"

Teyla placed her hand on the major's forehead. "He feels warm, but he's still shivering." She pulled the blanket back up over his shoulders.

"Aye, sounds like we've got an infection settin' in." He had been expecting it, yet hoping it wouldn't take hold until after he had the major back in Atlantis. "Just keep doin' what you're doin' and let me know if anything changes. I'll continue to check in with you."

"Yes, doctor," Teyla replied. "Jumper One out."

The jumper was strangely silent except for the gentle hiss of the oxygen. McKay finally worked up enough nerve to speak. "He's not doing to well, is he?" He turned to make eye contact with Teyla. He didn't much like what he saw.

"No," she said softly. "No, he's not." She quickly looked down as she retrieved the cloth she had been using to gently dab the sweat from his forehead and returned to her caregiving. She knew it did little for Major Sheppard, but it made her feel like she was doing something. She could not simply sit and watch the life flow out of the soldier who had so earned her respect and friendship. "Please hang on, Major," she whispered into his ear.

"Amen," said McKay to himself.


	6. Chapter 6

The Long Trip Home - Chapter 6

McKay tapped his radio. "Atlantis, this is Jumper One. We're about five minutes out. Be sure you have a medical team waiting."

Weir's response was, once again, immediate. "Good to hear, Rodney. Medical team is already in the jumper bay."

"Beckett?" Any ole medical team wasn't good enough.

"He's there," Weir replied reassuringly. She knew they wanted the best doctor available and that was most assuredly Carson Beckett. And Beckett himself wouldn't have let anyone else take his place. A real bond had formed between some members of the Atlantis family. A bond that was stronger, in ways, than family ties. A bond born of experiencing both wonders and horrors that, not so long ago, would have seemed unimaginable. A bond from helping each other cope with the sometimes relentless blows this galaxy could produce. A bond born from the complete dependency on others that you had to face when stranded in a galaxy far from home.

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Teyla breathed a sigh of relief as Jumper One began descending toward the jumper bay. "We are home," she told Sheppard as she placed her hand lightly on his cheek. Heat radiated from his body.

His eyes fluttered open for a second and she wondered if he had heard her. His sweat drenched body shivered under the blanket. Suddenly, his body stiffened and he groaned from deep within as he reached out blindly. She could see him gasping for air under the oxygen mask.

"Major!" she called sharply. His eyes rolled back in his head as his body shuddered and went limp. Teyla jumped to her feet, frantically searching for a pulse.

"What's wrong?" yelled McKay.

"Get us down quickly! There is no pulse and I don't think he's breathing," she shouted, panic edging her voice.

McKay yelled into his radio as he set the jumper down. "Beckett, get in here. NOW! We're losing him!"

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Sheppard had been drifting. The pain was there, but as long as he drifted at this level, it was bearable. Sometimes he heard far away voices and sounds, but they had no meaning. He wanted to stay here, at least for a while. He knew if he went closer to the surface, the pain would be much worse and he wasn't ready for that yet.

A comforting voice. A light touch. It seemed so soothing. Maybe he could surface just a little. He tried to focus on the familiar voice that seemed to be calling him.

NO! The white hot pain returned - exploding inside him and suffocating him. He couldn't breathe. Pressure. He felt as though he were drowning. The pain spread like molten lava into his chest. No air...no air...He couldn't hang on. Exhausted, he let go and slid quietly into the cool darkness.

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Beckett and his medical team took Jumper One by storm. Teyla moved quickly out of the way while vying for a vantage point from which she could see what was happening.

"Get him to the floor!" Beckett ordered. Two techs quickly moved Sheppard to the middle of the jumper floor where he could be tended from both sides. A nurse removed the oxygen mask and replaced it with a mask that had a bag on the side. She immediately began pumping air into Sheppard's lungs. Simultaneously, a second nurse had quickly cut his shirt and chest wrapping off and connected him to a heart monitor. Beckett was listening with his stethoscope. He probed around the major's side and abdomen, frowned, and listened again with the stethoscope. Although this organized and experienced flurry of activity occurred very quickly, it seemed to go in slow motion to Telya and Rodney.

"Do something!" McKay shouted as he listened to the steady alarm that warned of the flat line displayed on the monitor screen.

"I bloody well am," yelled Beckett. He grabbed the charged defibrillator from the nurse. Planting the paddles in the appropriate place on Sheppard's chest, he yelled "Clear!" and discharged them. Sheppard's back arched briefly before falling back to the floor of the jumper. The monitor still showed a flat line. Beckett tried again with the same results.

Beckett leaned forward and listened with his stethoscope once again. He moved around as if searching for something, frowning in worry the whole time. McKay shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other. He had this incredible sense of deja vu as he flashed back to a similar scene when Beckett had revived Sheppard after an alien bug encounter. Silently, he willed this scene to end the same way.

Beckett barked an order to one of the nurses, who handed him a large, empty syringe. Beckett carefully probed Sheppard's injured side until he found the spot he was seeking. He inserted a needle so large it made McKay's knees go weak into Sheppard's side and began withdrawing blood. When the syringe was full, he pulled out the needle and yelled, "Let's try it again."

Shock! Arch. Relax. And this time the alarm turned into a beeping...irregular at first, but slowly leveling out.

Beckett still did not look happy. He motioned for the girl who had resumed bagging Sheppard to stop. Listening through the stethoscope again he muttered, "He's still not breathing. We'll have to intubate."

Beckett moved around to Sheppard's head. He tilted the major's head back and skillfully slid a tube down his throat. The nurse then connected the bagging mechanism to the tube. Someone had started an IV during the flurry of activity and one of the tech's held the bag. Beckett listened with the stethoscope again.

"Okay, let's move him," he directed his staff. Sheppard was carefully lifted onto a gurney, along with the monitor, and wheeled away. Weir had joined the group watching the revival efforts at some point, McKay wasn't sure when. This wasn't the first time she had witnessed efforts to basically bring John Sheppard back from the dead. How many times could he tempt fate like this before he lost? She shuddered, hoping it wasn't today.

"Carson?" she asked, fear in her eyes.

Beckett just looked at her and the others blankly. "I'll do what I can," he said softly and turned to join his team.


	7. Chapter 7

Note to reviewers: I could never thank you enough for all the wonderful encouragement. Fuel to the fire. Every time I read them I want to run type another chapter. My initial terror at posting something I wrote for others to read is turning into a burning desire to write more. I don't know if that's good or bad, but I am having SUCH a good time. Thanks for always being so kind. And for those of you keeping up...another chapter.

The Long Trip Home - Chapter 7

Ford almost knocked two people down as he ran to the infirmary. Hours of pent up frustration caused him to sprint recklessly down the corridor. He had listened to the radio exchanges between Atlantis and Jumper One about the continuing deterioration of his CO's condition for seven hours and he was exhausted with worry. Every time the radio had crackled to life, his stomach would lurch and tighten in anticipation. A fifteen hour trip to the hospital is not a good thing when you are seriously injured.

As the travelers had reached Atlantis, he had finally relaxed a little. Major Sheppard would soon be in Dr. Beckett's hands. Beckett had saved Sheppard, as well as other team members, from the brink of death on more than one occasion. In his mind, he reasoned that once the major was in Beckett's capable hands, all would be well.

As Jumper One descended into the jumper bay andFord anxiously awaited their turn to land, McKay's panicked voice came over the radio. "Beckett, get in here. NOW! We're losing him!"

That was the last radio transmission. As they had hovered over the jumper bay, watching medical personnel stream into the jumper, Ford's muscles had knotted tighter and tighter until he felt like a trap ready to spring. A few minutes later, a gurney with Sheppard's still form was rushed out of the jumper bay, medical team running along side.

"Can't you get this thing down any faster?" Ford snapped at Markham, the pilot.

Unphased, Markham replied, "No sir. Jumper One is parked in the door, so to speak. I have to wait for someone to move it before we can go in." He had not taken offense to Ford's sharp request. Although he was worried about the major, he knew Lt. Ford was especially close to the Sheppard. His whole team was almost like a family. Markham had conversed with others on the base about the way members of the team would often finish each other's sentences or complete their tasks. There was a connection of acceptance, experience, and familiarity that almost baffled those around them. In spite of the sometimes playful, sometimes belligerent banter that occurred, especially between Sheppard and McKay, the members of the team just fit together like a puzzle. He knew Ford was afraid they were losing the central piece of the puzzle.

Ford rushed into the infirmary and over to the others in time to hear a nurse report. "Dr. Beckett will be with you as soon as he can. He said to wait here."

Weir frowned. "Can you tell us anything about Major Sheppard's condition?"

The nurse hesitated. "It's really too early to tell." She tried to smile reassuringly. "Dr. Beckett will take good care of him, of that you can be assured." With that, she hurried off across the infirmary.

A sort of waiting room had been set up at one end of the infirmary, with chairs scattered across the space. They all sat briefly at first, but one by one began to pace and move around nervously. What seemed like hours later, Carson Beckett joined them.

"I can't stay but a minute. We've got to get him to surgery to stop the internal bleeding. I'd like to stabilize him a little more first, but his blood pressure is dropping too fast. I think we've reached the 'now or never' stage. I'll let ya know when we're done." Without waiting for questions, he turned and left.

They stood in silence a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts and fears. Ford tried to sound positive. "Hey guys, he'll be fine. It's the major. He's been in trouble before , but he always comes out on top. He'll be okay. Nine lives and all."

After a few minutes, Rodney asked quietly, "So which one is he on now?"

No one wanted to count.

A few minutes later, the nurse who had spoken to them earlier returned. McKay was sitting in one of the chairs, his head in his hands. The nurse kneeled in front of him, gently placing her hand on his arm. "Dr. McKay?"

McKay lowered his arms and looked at the nurse. She gave him a small smile as she placed a set of clean scrubs in his lap.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Dr. McDaniel will be here to check you out in a few minutes. I thought you might want get cleaned up and put on some clothes that aren't quite so...battered. You'll feel a lot better."

McKay began shaking his head even before she finished speaking. "No, no, no. I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here. Besides, I'm fine. I'm not the one who spent a whole day going around and around with a wraith. All I did was sit and watch while Gaul..." McKay's voice trailed off and he looked down, his eyes filled with sadness. "Look, I'm fine. And what's wrong with my clothes?"

The nurse continued to talk in a soothing voice, which irritated McKay to no end. He felt as though her were being patronized and he didn't like it one bit. That was his job. "Dr. McKay, you know a post mission check up is required. It won't hurt to be sure you are okay. As to what's wrong with your clothes..."

McKay waved his hand. "Never mind, I get the picture." He had begun to realize he was completely covered in dirt and sweat. In the back of his mind, he wondered if there might be little bits of scorched wraith in the mix. Some things are better off left unknown.

The nurse watched him as he continued to sit there. "He won't be out of surgery for a long time, Dr. McKay. You won't miss anything. Come with me and I'll show you where you can get cleaned up and changed." She guided him to his feet as she wondered if he might be in shock himself.

He looked at her questioningly. "What if...what if...something...happens?"

"I promise I'll come get you. Now let's try and stay positive." she replied.

McKay jerked his head up to stare at her. Sheppard's voice echoed in his head. "Let's try and stay positive." Yeah, that had worked really well. The whole glass-half-full routine hadn't done Sheppard a bit of good. He let the nurse lead him away.

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McKay stood in the shower, letting the hot water wash over him. It felt good to be ridding himself of the dirt, sweat, and ...anything else that may be mixed in. He had set the water temperature as hot as he could stand it without getting scalded and it soon filled the small room with steam. He breathed it in deeply. He needed to feel clean both inside and out. He briefly felt some of the tension in his muscles begin to ease slightly. Rodney closed his eyes against the mounting, throbbing headache only to snap them open again. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Brendan's aged face and the haunting look of fear that engulfed it. Then he could hear the gun discharge. It played in his mind over and over. He wasn't sure how long he stood like that, but he suddenly realized someone was tapping at the door.

"Dr. McKay, are you all right?" He could hear the concern in her voice, even through the door.

"Yeah! I'm good." He flinched when he realized what he had said. "I'm just getting out." With that, he turned off the water.

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McKay sat on the exam table, hair still damp from his shower. "Why do doctors always have to do that?" he complained as he pulled away from the doctor examining him.

"Do what?" he asked, once again trying to shine the small light in McKay's right eye.

"That! You know, the light-in-the-eye thing. They could haul me in here with a broken leg and the first thing you would do is shine a light in my eye. What does that have to do with anything?" McKay was really exasperated now, raising his voice and waving his arms around.

The doctor calmly watched in silence until McKay had finished ranting. "To answer your question, it can tell us a lot about level of consciousness and neurological involvement, which may or may not be apparent in other ways. But, of course, the main purpose is to annoy patients like you. You know you really are going to have to calm down. I'd hate to have to sedate you just for a post mission exam."

"There. That's another thing. Beckett's always threatening to sedate people and telling them to calm down. So did you two attend the same school for witchdoctors, or is this pretty much a universal theme?"

Dr. McDaniel smiled. "Pretty much universal."

"Figures," retorted McKay. "Okay, I've seen the light show, now what else do you need? I'd really like to get back out there with the others." McKay looked longingly at the door.

McDaniel looked down at the chart. "Your blood pressure is too high. Since you haven't had a problem with that before, I'm going with the assumption that it's stress related. You look very tired. You need to rest. How do YOU feel?"

"Oh I'm just peachy," he replied sarcastically. "Why would I be tired and stressed? Let me see, in the last 48 hours I have eaten little and slept less, watched a good man die, watched a good friend get the crap beaten out of him by a wraith, almost been blown up, and flown a jumper for seven hours while listening to the life drain out of one of the best friends I've ever had, not to metion one of the best men I've ever known. Now I sit her creating idle chatter with you while I wait to hear if he's still going to be with us when we get up in the morning. All in all, a pretty good time. Can't imagine why you might think I have stress. Can I go now?" It was more of a challenge than a question.

Dr. McDaniel was beginning to understand some of Beckett's moods. But he also understood that McKay's anger was born of concern for his friend, as well as the mental and physical trials of the trip. "Go and be with your friends. As soon as Sheppard is out of surgery, I expect you to eat something and then get some rest. I mean lying down in your quarters rest, not dozing in a chair in here rest. I won't hesitate to slap your butt in a bed if you refuse. Carson and I also both took uncooperative patients 101...and I got an A plus."

McKay was too tired and too worried to argue. He just nodded as he got up to go. He hesitated a minute, looking back at the doctor that he didn't know nearly as well as Carson. He felt a little guilty at giving the man such a hard time. He, like Carson, was just trying to look out for their best interests. He smiled and nodded at the doctor in lieu of an apology. "Thanks," he said softly before slipping out the door. McDaniel smiled in the realization that McKay understood he was there to help, not to harm. That was all he wanted.

McKay had almost broken into a run by the time he reached the area where the others waited. "Any word?' he asked breathlessly.

Weir shook her head. "Are you all right?" She looked worried and kept rubbing her eyes, he suspected wiping away tears.

"Yeah, I'm good." He winced. "Sorry about that."

"Well, since he's obviously starting to rub off on you, let me ask you again and I want an honest answer. Are you okay?" She peered at him as if she were trying to see inside him.

"Elizabeth, I'm fine. He told me to get something to eat and get some rest once we know about Sheppard. That's all, I promise." He looked away quickly, hoping she didn't see how haunted he was or how guilty he felt.

She knew there was more going on, but she could tell Rodney wasn't ready to talk about it yet. He seemed to be handling it for the moment, so she decided to let it pass until later. Once they knew John was going to be okay, they could move on to other things. She leaned back against the wall, letting it support her. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her forehead. Why did he do this to her? Every time he was late, every time he came back injured, it was like something squeezing her heart until she couldn't breathe. She knew the way he played Russian roulette with his life, that one day he wouldn't come home or Beckett wouldn't be able to bring him back. The thought made her sick. Please don't letthat daybe today.


	8. Chapter 8

The Long Trip Home - Chapter 8

They had been waiting for hours, although it seemed like days. They were spread out in various positions sitting and laying across the chairs in the waiting area. McKay had finally dozed off and no one wanted to chance making a stray noise that could awaken the exhausted scientist. The room was strangely silent.

They had seen medical personnel going in and out of the area near the back of the room that led to surgery. Each time, they watched carefully to see if someone would come their way and give them a bit of news. No one ever came. No one would even look at them. In turn, they wondered if they were being avoided because of something the staff knew or simply because they didn't know anything.

When Beckett shuffled tiredly through the door leading to surgery and headed toward the crowd of waiting friends, they immediately came to life. Ford nudged McKay, letting him know to wake up. Beckett had removed his mask, but was still wearing bloody surgical scrubs. For a second, Elizabeth couldn't take her eyes off the blood. She just kept staring at it and thinking, _that's **his **blood._ Beckett ran his hand absently through his hair, looking for a place to begin. They waited silently, unable to read his expression.

"Don't ask me why or how, but he's still with us. We almost lost him twice, but, thankfully, I have the best medical team in this galaxy - or any other galaxy for that matter. He's very weak and he's a long way from being out of the woods. We've given him several units of blood and he still needs more. We're pumping it into him as fast as we can. It looks like it started out a slow bleed, but then escalated as time wore on. By the time we finish, we'll probably have replaced almost his whole blood supply. The other main problem was the blood that accumulated in the sac around his lungs. I've put in a chest tube to drain the blood and other fluids that may accumulate because of the serious bruising around his lungs. He'll probably be on a ventilator for a while. He's just too weak and too bruised to breathe on his own." Beckett paused and looked up, shifting his head first to one side and then to the other in an attempt to relieve the aching stiffness he felt. He was dead on his feet. "Minor injuries include the gunshot wound, a bump to the head, and he may have a very slight crack in his right hip. Mostly, he's just battered and bruised. He'll be very sore for a while."

Weir breathed an audible sigh of relief. "So he's going to be okay, right?"

Beckett looked directly at her. "I didn't say that Elizabeth. He's holding his own for now, but he's very weak and we're having trouble getting him stabilized. On top of that, the injury to his arm is infected and he's running a fever. The next twenty-four to forty-eight hours will be critical. If he can make it past that, he may have a fighting chance. I want to be perfectly honest here. He has a small chance, but there are very definitely no guarantees."

They all stood in silence, torn between relief that the major was still alive and dread at the rather poor prognosis. Elizabeth's face looked ashen as she began to slowly sway back and forth. Beckett gently reached out and steadied her. "Are you all right, lass?" he asked softly, seeing the fear in her eyes.

She opened her mouth to answer, but quickly closed it, realizing she had too big a lump in her throat to produce words. She silently nodded as she swallowed hard. "Can we see him?"

Beckett sighed deeply. He had been afraid one of them would ask that. "I'd really rather wait until tomorrow. It's late and all of you need to get some rest, especially you Rodney." They just kept looking at him expectantly, no one making a move to leave. After a few seconds he said, "Well, maybe just a small peek. Give me a minute." He turned and walked away.

Beckett was back in a few minutes. "You can see him for a minue and I do mean ONE minute. In and out. I have to warn you that he's pretty battered and he's still on the respirator. It's not going to be pretty." With that, he led them down the hall.

When they entered the room, they were immediately met by the sounds of the heart monitor and the ventilator. A nurse stood beside his bed, adjusting the many tubes that seemed to weave around the major. They could see heavy bandaging around his mid section, just above the blanket that covered him from the waist down. The leads to the heart monitor were attached to his chest, just above the bandages. A blood-filled tube emerged from the bandages along his side and disappeared under the bed. A small piece of tape secured the tube emerging from his throat to the side of his mouth. It was attached to the rhythmically pulsating ventilator next to the bed, a thin line keeping the major alive. IV and transfusion lines led to his arms. His face was so pale, they wondered if Beckett had made a mistake about him still being alive. But then there was the somewhat comforting beep of the heart monitor. They thought they understood for the first time how fragile the line between life and death was for the major.

"Okay, you've seen him with yer own eyes. I want everyone out of here and off to bed. You can check back with me tomorrow. And Rodney...you better get several hours of sleep before you even think of coming back." With that, he escorted them out the door.

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Rodney awoke screaming, his body covered in a cold sweat, the sounds of gunshots echoing inside his head. He was panting so hard, it took him a minute to catch his breath. When he finally did, he let himself fall backward into the bed. He was still tired, but he didn't feel so completely exhausted any more. His mind was still a little foggy, so it took a second before he jerked himself out of bed. Sheppard.

McKay raced into the infirmary, his eyes searching for Beckett. He'd almost had a stroke when he realized it was early afternoon and no one had awakened him. He finally saw Beckett coming across the room.

"Carson!" he called as he hurried over to him. "How's Sheppard?"

"He's holdin' his own." repled Beckett. "Elizabeth somehow managed to talk me into lettin' her sit with him a minute. She's back there now if you want to join her. I'll need to run the both of you out shortly."

Without comment, McKay nodded and moved toward the room that held Sheppard. He walked in slowly, his fingers crossed that the major would look stronger today. He was somewhat disappointed when he saw that things looked pretty much like they did when he left. He kept telling himself that at least Sheppard was still alive.

Elizabeth was sitting beside the bed, the major's hand held protectively in hers. She was so focused on Sheppard that she wasn't aware of McKay until he placed his hand gently on her shoulder. She jumped at his touch, turning swiftly to face him.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. How's he doing?"

She turned back to Sheppard, "No change." In some ways, she wanted to say so much more and in others she didn't want to say anything at all. She was just starting to realize how much he had captured her heart. She had no idea what she would do if he died. But then, she had no idea what she would do if he lived.

Over the next few days, Sheppard continued to get stronger. There was a steady stream of people in and out of the infirmary checking on the major's condition. Weir and McKay spent more and more time sitting with Sheppard, waiting on him to wake up. Beckett gave up trying to enforce visiting hours with them. He did insist that they leave periodically to eat and get some sleep.

Four days after the jumper arrived back at Atlantis with its battered cargo, Weir was once again sitting in Sheppard's room. She had taken to talking to him when McKay wasn't around. Dr. Beckett had told them it might not hurt to talk to the major. Even though he might not be conscious, some thought that the unconscious mind might register the presence of family and friends, helping the healing process. Elizabeth wanted to help in any way that she could. She also found it comforting to talk to John. She had missed their conversations on the balcony.

She paced nervously back and forth. "I'm not sure what to do. I think I love you John Sheppard...God help me. It took almost losing you to make me realize just how important you have become to me. I'm telling you this now because I know I won't get to tell you later. I won't risk this expedition because of my feelings. It's too important. It's going to be hard to see you and talk to you every day, knowing I can never have you." The corners of her mouth turned up just a little as if she meant to smile. "But it's far better than losing you." She walked over to the bed and bent over Sheppard, kissing him softly on the cheek, tears falling from her cheek to his. She lingered a few seconds, her face next to his, listening to the now familiar sounds of the respirator and the heart monitor. She lifted her face a few inches and looked into his face. His eyes were open.


	9. Chapter 9

The Long Trip Home - Chapter 9

Elizabeth froze, watching his eyes for some sign that he was aware of his surroundings. "John, can you hear me? It's Elizabeth. I'm right here." She grasped his hand firmly.

His eyes were unmoving and unseeing at first . She could see awareness creeping slowly into his face. "John, I'm right here. I'm just going to give Carson a yell. I'll be right back." Only when she tried to leave his side did she realize he was gripping her hand. She touched his shoulder and hovered over his face. "I'll be right back John, I promise." He blinked and released her hand, seeming to understand. She raced to the door and called down the hall, "Carson, come quick. John's awake."

She hurried back to the bed to find him grabbing at the respirator tube and fear in his eyes. She firmly gripped his wrists and pulled them away from his face. "It's okay John, calm down. You're on a ventilator to help you breathe."

Beckett came flying into the room. As soon as he saw Weir struggling with Sheppard, he knew what was happening. As Elizabeth continued to hold onto John's arms, Beckett leaned directly over his face where he knew Sheppard would see him. He spoke to him calmly. "It's Dr. Beckett, son, and I need you to calm down. You've been seriously injured and we've had to put you on a ventilator to help you breathe." Sheppard's eyes still registered fear. "John, I know you feel like you can't breathe, like you're goin' to suffocate, but you won't. I promise. Just relax and let the machine breathe for you. You need to save your strength to get well."

John stopped struggling, but Elizabeth continued to hold his hands. "I'm still here John. Just listen to Dr. Beckett."

"I know it's uncomfortable, lad, so I'm goin' to give you something to help you relax." John blinked again and Beckett could only hope that meant he understood. He had no sooner turned away from Sheppard's IV than he saw the major's eyes fluttering as he slipped into sleep.

Elizabeth gently laid John's hands back on the bed, her heart racing in her chest. "What was that?" she asked Beckett. "Is he okay?"

Beckett nodded. "It's a normal reaction to waking up on a ventilator. You have to remember, he woke up to find a tube down his throat. I've been told it makes you feel like you can't breathe and you're suffocating. It's a very terrifying experience. Keeping a ventilated patient sedated is really the only humane thing to do."

Weir nodded, the worry leaving her face. "How long will be on the ventilator?"

"Well, he seems to be gettin' stronger. I'll probably try startin' the weanin' process tonight. We could have him off it completely in a couple of days, depending on how soon he gets his strength back."

Her eyes on John's sleeping form, she asked Beckett, "So, now is he going to be okay?"

Beckett smiled broadly. "Aye, lass. he's goin' to be fine."

Two days later, McKay and Weir both sat in Sheppard's room. McKay was working on his laptop and muttering something about incompetent boobs being allowed to screw up really important, life-changing experiments. He had been furious that Sheppard woke up while he was getting lunch, insisting that the major did it on purpose just to piss him off. He was most assuredly not going to miss the next time, even if it meant camping out. Beckett had assured him he would keep the major under until time to remove the ventilator, but McKay wasn't taking any chances.

Elizabeth was sitting in the other chair next to Sheppard's bed. She also had a laptop, but hadn't done anything on it in quite some time. Mostly she was just staring at Sheppard's still form. His color was a lot better. He was still on the ventilator, but Carson had been weaning his dependency on it for the last couple of days. His blood gases had come back good enough that Beckett had suspended the sedation and was going to take him off the ventilator as soon as he woke up. She hadn't talked to Sheppard in over a week, at least not when he was conscious and lucid enough to listen and participate. She was so anxious to have him back.

Elizabeth suddenly sat straight up. McKay almost knocked his laptop into the floor as he reacted. "What? Is something wrong?"

She slid forward in her seat. She had seen his hand move. "I think he's waking up. Get Carson."

McKay set the computer on the chair and rushed out of the room. He returned in a minute with Dr. Beckett, who moved immediately to the head of the bed. Weir and McKay flanked the sides. They all watched as Sheppard struggled to open his eyes. Almost immediately, one hand began moving toward his mouth. Beckett gently took hold of his arm and pushed it down as he leaned down in front of him, as he had done before. "Major, it's Doctor Beckett. I need you to relax. Remember, you're on the ventilator, so just try and relax, lad." Sheppard relaxed as he came awake and began processing what the doctor was telling him. "Good. Now if you'll give me a minute, we'll get that tube out of your throat and I think you'll feel a lot better." Beckett turned to Weir and McKay. I need you two to leave for a minute and send in the nurse."

McKay looked frustrated. "He just woke up and you're already booting us out?"

"Aye. I'll let you back in in a minute. I need to remove the ventilator tube and it's not a pleasant experience. I thought he might like a little privacy."

"Oh," McKay said sheepishly. "Well, okay. But we get to come back when you're finished." He and Weir turned and left the room.

Sheppard was trying hard not to panic. He was aware of everything Beckett had told him, but that didn't stop the incredible sensation that he was suffocating. He just wanted to breathe. He felt his muscles beginning to tense in his neck, shoulders, and chest. He dug his hands down into the covers to try to keep himself from grabbing the tube and pulling it out himself. The panic was building and his gag reflex was starting to kick in. Just when he thought he could stand it no more, Dr. Beckett and a nurse appeared by his bed.

Beckett disconnected the tube from the ventilator and leaned over Sheppard. "Son, I'm goin' to count to three. On three I want ya to give me the biggest cough you can."

Sheppard nodded ever so slightly. The room seemed strangely silent with the ventilator turned off. When Sheppard heard Beckett say three, he coughed with as much force as he could muster. He would have screamed if he could have. When Beckett pulled the tube out, it felt as if he was ripping Sheppard's throat apart. He continued to cough and sputter after the tube had been removed, kicking up some serious pain in his side and abdomen. Exhausted and hurting, he finally relaxed back onto the bed, his eyes closed. He drifted for a minute.

"Major Sheppard? Major, can you hear me?" Sheppard opened his eyes to find Beckett hovering over him again. Did that man never get tired of doing that? Sheppard nodded slightly. There was no way he was going to try to talk. His throat felt like ground meat and raw nerve endings being dangled over a hot fire.

The nurse played angel of mercy and offered him some ice chips, which he gratefully accepted. She then placed an oxygen mask on his face and left to fetch McKay and Weir.

"I've a couple of people that have been very anxious to see you," Beckett began. "They've been camped out here for days waiting on you to wake up. Maybe now I can get rid of them."

Sheppard pointed to the oxygen mask, a question in his eyes.

"Just a precaution, major. I always put patients on oxygen after removing the ventilator tube. It just gives you some extra support while you adjust to breathing on your own. It's just for a little while."

Sheppard nodded. It was so much more comfortable than the tube in his throat, he didn't much care how long it was there at the momemt. The flow of air actually felt good, since it let him get the needed air without much exertion. He was so tired.

Beckett glanced back as Weir and McKay entered the room and then turned back to Sheppard. "Welcome back, lad. You cut it pretty close this time. I'd appreciate it if we didn't do this ever again." He patted Sheppard on the arm and turned to leave. "You don't need to stay too long. He needs his rest."

McKay and Weir watched him go and then turned back to Sheppard, whose eyes were only about half open. The fear was gone from his face and eyes, now that the tube was out of his throat. He seemed relaxed and the oxygen mask didn't look nearly as frightening as the ventilator had. Maybe it was just the knowledge that he was breathing on his own.

"I've missed you," said Weir softly, almost in a whisper. She squeezed his arm, careful not to disturb the IV. He concentrated on her face. There was something about her he was trying to remember, but it just wouldn't seem to come. Something she had said...or maybe done...

McKay's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Okay Captain Kirk, I have a couple of bones to pick with you. First you act like you're not really hurt and then you wait until you're practically in a coma before waking me up. I haven't even gotten to the..." Sheppard had very slowly turned his head to look at him with an almost childlike expression on his face. He just looked so ...peaceful...and ...sorry...and grateful. McKay didn't have the heart to continue. He felt his jaw clenching against the building emotion as he remembered the major on the floor of the jumper, almost dead and bleeding out internally. "Well...we can discuss that...later. For now, it's good to have you back."

John watched them both as he felt his eyelids getting heavy and a grin forming under the oxygen mask. He lifted his hand a couple of inches off the bed and flashed them a "thumbs up" just before slipping into peaceful darkness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sheppard had been moved from the intensive care area of the infirmary to the general care area. Less privacy, but more company and things to watch. He was very proud to have made it to his first day of scrubs, meaning he was slowly but surely making his way towards being discharged. He shifted positions in bed, flaring the pain in his ribs and the incision site in his abdomen. But it was a duller pain and didn't take his breath away any more. He was making progress, but he wasn't there yet. He moved his right leg. Hip still sore. Beckett said he'd probably have a limp for while until it healed. That didn't matter much. He was still quite a ways from light duty, much less active duty.

McKay walked in and plopped in the chair next to his bed. "How are you feeling today? You're almost starting to look human again."

Sheppard slid him a sideways glance. "Gee, thanks McKay. Way to work on my self esteem. Hey, I got scrubs!" He smiled his boyish smile and pointed proudly to his shirt.

McKay nodded. "Congratulations! You've made a lot of progress since they hauled your skinny butt in here."

Sheppard nodded enthusiastically. "No doubt. I hate those gowns. Those things are so humiliating."

McKay shook his head and looked annoyed. "No, no. You're not listening, man. I meant when they first brought you in. You know, those first few days when you were on death's door scaring us all out of several perfectly good years of our life." He shook his head as if he were talking to a child.

Sheppard looked confused. "I know. That's what I meant. With the hospital gowns. Up until today, that is."

McKay looked at him funny for a minute before a look of understanding crossed his face. He laughed. "Oh my gosh, you don't know, do you? No, of course you don't. You were unconscious that whole time."

Sheppard looked even more confused and he was looking less happy by the minute. "McKay, what are you talking about?"

McKay had a nasty smirk on his face. "Major, you didn't have any clothes on for the first few days you were here. Just a blanket. There were so many tubes and wires going in and out of you, there was no way they were even getting a gown on. Don't worry though, I'm sure everyone was very professional -- no peeping."

As if on cue, a young nurse walked by Sheppard's bed. "Need anything, major?" Then she winked.

Sheppard mumbled, "No," as he pulled the covers up to his shoulders and sank deeper into the bed.

McKay couldn't resist rubbing Sheppard just a little more. "Does the term catheter mean anything to you?"

"McKay!" Sheppard roared.

Beckett stuck his head out of his office. "Is there a problem? Rodney, if you're goin' to upset my patient, I'll have to kick you out."

McKay brought his hand up defensively. "I'll be good." He sat for a minute and then his expression went to something a little more serious. "Can I talk to you about something?"

Sheppard started to snap out a sarcastic reply, but he saw a desperate need in McKay's eyes. "No problem. Shoot."

McKay seemed to struggle silently for several minutes. Sheppard had begun to think he had changed his mind. Finally, McKay opened up to him. "On the planet...Gaul...It was my fault."

Sheppard began shaking his head. "Absolutely not, McKay. There is no way..."

"Let me finish. You don't know the whole story. It's been eating at me since we got back and I have to talk to someone. I definitely don't want it to be Heightmeyer. She wouldn't understand, but I think you will. I'm responsible for Brendan's death." He hesitated and Sheppard gave him the minutes he needed before he continued. "Brendan...shot himself." There. He'd said it. "I was babbling on about needing to help you and that I couldn't leave him alone and the next thing I knew...he shot himself."

Sheppard seemed lost in thought for a minute and McKay wondered if he had even been paying attention. "McKay, that doesn't make it your fault. We both saw Gaul. He's probably better off and I think he knew that. Do you honestly think he would have been better off if we had gotten him back here? It was his decision, not yours. If there is guilt, then I have to share in it too. I should have kept us together instead of leaving them alone. We made mistakes McKay. It probably won't be the last time."

"Doesn't that scare you? That you might make mistakes that cost men their lives?"

"Yes, it scares me. It scares the heck out of me. I have a lot of ghosts to deal with. People that are dead because I made a bad decision. But you have to go on with life because if we shut down, we end up losing even more. You have to keep trying." Sheppard paused for a moment before looking up at McKay. "Speaking of lives, thanks for saving mine."

They both sat silently for a few moments before McKay could stand the somber mood no longer. "Don't get all sappy on me major. You didn't really think I was going to let you die after that vomiting in the jumper stunt, did you? I so owe you for that one and, major, paybacks are tough."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Weir entered the infirmary to find Sheppard standing beside his bed, arguing with Beckett, Things were most certainly getting back to normal.

"Gentlemen, is there a problem? Maybe I can help."

"Same thing I always go through once the major starts feelin' a little better. He wants me to dismiss him and he's not ready. You almost died, lad. I've still got a couple of things I'm keepin' an eye on and ya still get dizzy ever so often. You could fall and hurt yourself in your quarters and no one would be the wiser. You can barely walk. No, you're stuck here for another couple of days. I think I liked ya better on the ventilator. At least then you couldn't talk back."

"But I need to stretch out. I'm so stiff and sore and that's not getting much better because the only thing I get out of bed for is to go to the bathroom. I'm never going to get my strength back sitting around. And we haven't even discussed the boredom factor. Can I just take a walk then?"

Beckett seemed to think about it. "Aye, a short walk might be good for you at that. But you can't go alone and you can't go very far."

"I could walk with him," Weir offered. John looked so excited at the prospect of getting out of the infirmary, she thought he might explode.

"Okay, but I want you back in...20 minutes and don't over do it. Call me on the radio if he gets too tired to make it back and we'll come fetch him."

"30 minutes," Sheppard countered, a pleading look on his face.

Beckett opened his mouth to object and then thought better of it. He sighed loudly. "You're like kid, you know it? Okay, be back in 30 minutes. Call me if you need me."

Weir looked at Sheppard. "Where do you want to go?"

"Balcony. I need to get outside for a few minutes. I need to see it and smell it." They began slowly walking down the corridor, toward a door to the balcony, Sheppard limping. Weir offered her arm for support and was suprised when he took it. She realized after a few moments that she wasn't really supporting any of his weight and wondered why he had taken her arm. She reasoned that it probably helped steady him and provided that connection that only touch can. When they reached the balcony, they each leaned against it and looked out toward the ocean.

He closed his eyes and felt the warmth of the sun on his face. He breathed the ocean air in and was grateful to be alive to do it. Now he was starting to feel alive again. He smiled.

"A penny for your thoughts," she said as she watched him enjoy the ocean air.

"Oh I was just thinking about how lucky I am. I've gotten to see and experience the most amazing things since coming here. I've survived several things I probably shouldn't have. I have more of a family now that at any other point in my life." He paused a second and then looked down at her. He stepped closer and moved his face until it was only inches from hers. Elizabeth's heart raced wildly in her chest and she could scarcely breathe. He was so close she could feel his breath on her face. "By the way, I think I love you too." he said softly. And then his hands were cupping her face and his lips were on hers and she didn't care if anyone saw them or what they thought. John was finally home.


End file.
